Isaiah
43:2 - “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go
through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown.”
In
my last Calvary’s Thread post, ‘Adrift’, I wrote about drifting along
the current of a river without tiller or oar and speculated that I might be
able to lean over and hand paddle my along. Jim McClelland suggested in a
comment that by hopping in I could “enjoy the truths of the discoveries along
this particular journey.” Part of my reply to Jim was that I am more effective
as a swimmer than a drifter, or something along those lines. As effective as I
can be while propelling myself along the river of life, I need respite from the
currents and chills of the water. I need rest and a place to do it. I
believe I found such a place and I know of a handful of others. Holm.
Holm,
as Webster describes it, is a small island or inshore island. It’s a British
term and those folks seem to have cornered the market for alternate words for
an island such as: ait as in ‘a little island’ or eyot a variation on ait. I
prefer ‘holm’ to the alternatives, it feels warmer and more inviting to me.
When
my sister Denise moved to Merlin, Oregon and shortly thereafter my parents, we
took summer trips to visit them nearly every year and with few exceptions,
rafted down the Rogue River. For twenty-five years we took these floats using
inflatable kayaks, paddle rafts, and drift boats. We encountered small islands, or holms, along the way downstream. They provide sanctuary for birds to nest to be
safer for their eggs and young. Canada Geese, Mergansers, Teals, Mallards, and
other waterfowl use the island to pull up on and sun to restore body heat and
to nest. Songbirds and waders (Green and Great Blue Herons, and various Egrets)
wade off the holms to hunt for fish and frogs. The islets are not Edens as
there is predation from the sky from eagles and hawks. Otters, playful as they
are, eat pretty much what they can catch. Still, there is a measure of
sanctuary and peace, the birds can breathe and relax a bit.
Bass
Lake, the ancestral home of my mom, has a couple of islands – one toward the
upper third of the lake where the Madera County Sheriffs operate from. The
other island is down near the dam. Both islands are submerged when the lake is
full with the only evidence as either the Sheriff’s tower or the vegetation
sticking up above the water. Likewise, both islands are accessible by walking
when the lake is at its lowest point. The island near the dam is bisected by a
boom, in the old days of true log construction but nowadays made of rubber
coated tubes filled with floatation materials. Nearly from the day we could
walk we would see how far we could get before falling off the boom and into the
lake. It became a rite of passage when we could swim along the boom out to the
island or take our inflatable rafts to it. These were our Huck Finn moments.
My
dad and I sometimes rowed out and fished around the island. I miss those times
of quiet conversation as we tried to lure trout and bass to our hooks. Whenever
I see the island, I remember those times and I am warmed by the memories of
them. It is a holm to me.
A
week ago, as I wrote this, I was at holm with Jim and Shirley McClelland, free
of the river’s currents, rapids, and rocks. A place of peace and sanctuary. I
feel at home at their place, always. I rode my motorcycle up to see them, hang
out with Jim with his various errands, and take in a Giants’ game at Oracle Park.
As arduous as my ride up was (I’ll need to write that story for Iron Side Up)
I needed a place to catch my breath. The ride provided me space to think and pray about
things and then push them away to pay attention to the road. With Jim and Shirley,
it is as though no time has passed and we pick up where we left off. I love
them for it.
Mike
and Van Schermerhorn’s place is another holm, and island of respite. The last
time I was with them I had rented a trailer to help Mike move a patio set to a
friend of theirs in need. As with Jim, it seemed that no time had passed and we picked up
where we last saw each other. Mike and Van bought lunch for me which we had
shared with friends of theirs. They needn’t have, the warmth in sharing in
their kindness was more than enough payment. I love them for it.
My
sisters’ places and kids’ homes are places we stay that offer the same sort of
comforts of love, joy, and peace – they are places to rehab my soul. Holms in
the river, though with the grandkids the times are more otterlike than
completely restful.
My
prayer for you, my encouragement to you, is that you find your holms. And those
that you already know, pay them a visit and heal a bit from the rush and keep a
weather eye out for new holms.
In
His grip,
jerry
Biblical
river references:
Psalms
46:4 - "There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of
God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High."
Revelation
22:1-2 - "Then the angel showed the river of the water of life, clear as
crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb."
Genisis
2: 20 - “A river flowed from the land of Eden, watering the garden and then
dividing into four branches.”
